


A Lost Boy's Home

by kingofthesun



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Brotherly Love, Hetalia, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Minor America/England (Hetalia), Minor Canada/Ukraine (Hetalia), Minor USUK, Other, References to Supernatural (TV), Supernatural Crossover, Supernatural Elements, america is dean, blah blah blah other characters or whatever, canada is sam, crude alluding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 05:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingofthesun/pseuds/kingofthesun
Summary: Alfred and Matthew are hunters. Ghost hunters. Much different than Ghostbusters. They have been chasing the Devil, Ivan, for months with no luck. Failure after failure, the boys were starting to feel defeated. To lift their spirits, Alfred decides to follow a simple ghost case in Portland, Oregon which would be an easy solve. But what they don't know is that they may have bit off more than they can chew.





	A Lost Boy's Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be the first to say it: This is terrible. I wrote this up in a whim when I was feeling particularly motivated. I haven't even seen Hetalia in five years. I don't know what I'm doing here. Someone tell me why I decided to travel down this dark hellhole again? Anyway, it's terrible. I can't write to save my life. Whatever.  
> Also, it says minor UsUk but uhhh it's not. There's a lot more than minor, but not a UsUk fic. :/

“This is ridiculous, Al. We should be hunting down Ivan, not making a detour to Portland for some case. Why can’t Elizabeta or Ludwig take care of it?”

“‘Cause Matty,” Alfred’s eyes flickered off the road momentarily, his attention drawn to the text he received on his phone, “We’ve been chasing Ivan for half a year and we are no closer to catching him than you are to getting laid. We need this!”

Matthew crossed his arms across his chest and slumped in his seat, pouting like a child. “What we  _ need _ is to continue our search for the  _ Devil _ and put him back in the cage where he belongs.”

‘We wouldn’t need to worry about putting him back into the cage if you didn’t bang one of his accomplices.”

“You trusted Katyusha, too!”

“And it backfired on us! Luckily, you stabbed the bitch before she could get away.” Alfred pocketed his phone, his worn leather jacket stretching across his shoulders as he twisted in a weird angle. “Now, can you stop whining and let me drive? I thought you’d like a nice classic case, there seems to be a spirit or something kidnapping children. The norm.”

“For once, I wish we could go somewhere and just enjoy the city, and not have to risk our lives trying to save others.”

“You and me both, Matt. You and me both.”  
  


Alfred and Matthew are hunters. No, not the normal deer in the woods type, more like the “if there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who you going to call?” type of hunters. The brothers have been a part of the “family business” for about five years now if they can even call it the family business anymore. When your mom burns up on the ceiling and your dad sacrifices his life to save you, you don’t have much of a family left to run the business. That is if you count their aloof angel friend Kiku, and their double crossing, good for nothing, King of Hell partner Arthur as family, then the business might as well run itself to the ground. 

At the moment, the eldest brother Alfred was driving himself and Matthew to Portland, Oregon to investigate the disappearance of young children that Alfred is 99% sure is linked to something supernatural. 

Matthew, on the other hand, would much rather meet up with Kiku and continue their search for the trenchcoat-wearing devil himself: Ivan. About six months ago, Matthew made the rash decision to trust a rogue demon named Katyusha after his brother was trapped in hell for four months. At first, he had tried making a deal with the King of Hell himself, but Arthur, the sadistic asshole he is, found Alfred’s screams of agony and tortuous company comforting, so he ignored Matthew’s requests. That is when Katyusha approached him, claiming to be a demon, tired of Arthur’s rule. She introduced him to powers he never knew he had by feeding him demon blood, and the two of them had a fling of their own. It wasn’t until Alfred mysteriously appeared at his door, covered in dirt, claiming to be alive when things really went downhill. 

It had been discovered that an angel from Heaven had pulled Alfred up from Perdition, saving him from eternal torture. Of course, if you asked Arthur, he would have claimed that he let Kiku save Alfred, tired of hearing the brothers whine to be back together and  _ blah blah blah _ (But if you ask Matthew, Arthur was still mad at Alfred for turning down his advances all those years ago. The Brit is still pining.). 

Anyways, with the brother’s reunited, Katyusha’s plan sprang into action. The next thing they knew, Matthew had stabbed his sorta-girlfriend, and Ivan was released from his cage. 

Now, the brothers (with the help from Kiku the angel, and commentary from Arthur) are now trying to find a way to get the Devil back into his cage and maybe get rid of Hell all together (with protest from Arthur, of course). 

Alfred pulled their father’s old 1967 Chevy Impala into a parking space in front of a ratted down motel on the side of the road. It was not uncommon for the two of them to reside in one star rated hotels, they always promised vacancy and a diner was always opened nearby. They never stayed that long, anyway. 

Matthew opened the passenger side door, the squeak of its hinges never getting old to the brothers’ ears. He made his way to the front desk to check in as Alfred grabbed their bags from the back.

“Hey, make sure to get us a room close to the pool, will ya?”

Matthew shot a glare in Alfred’s direction, who only flashed a toothy grin back. “It’s October in Oregon, there is no way you are swimming.”

“Aw, come on. Remember who went to Hell for you to save your ass!”

“Fine. But you’ll be the one trying to convince the staff to take off the pool tarp and clean it up so you can splash around.”

“What’s a guy gotta do to swim a few laps around here?”

“Find us a case in Florida.” Matthew opened the front door and walked in, ending their conversation. 

Alfred chuckled and shook his head. He walked over to the trunk of the car and unlocked it with his key. His eyes shifted around him, checking to make sure there were no bystanders. He popped the trunk, revealing the rows of various weapons and tools that the brothers carried along with them. Alfred grabbed one duffle bag that carried their clothing and toiletries and began filling a second bag with supplies from the car. 

First, he tossed in a can of red spray paint and a few pieces of chalk, useful for when they need to ward their room from any potential intruders. Next, he grabbed the demon blade, a dagger taken from Katyusha that is one of the only weapons that can kill a demon. He tossed in one of Kiku’s angel blades while he was at it. Since his reappearance on Earth, he hasn’t been the class favorite in Heaven or Hell. Lastly, he placed Matthew’s laptop and their father’s hunting journal in the bag, he assumed that there was going to be a lot of research heading their way. 

“Damn, did you bring enough?”

Alfred jumped at the sound of Matthew’s voice, his head slamming into the hood of the truck. He dropped the bags and covered his head with his hands, his face twisting up in pain.

“God bless America, that hurt!” 

Matthew patted his back and picked up one of the dropped duffle bags. “C’mon, I got you a good view of the pool.”  
  


The motel room was no different from the hundreds of other rooms they have stayed in from their hunting career. There were two twin size beds, most likely littered with bedbugs, leaky bathroom faucets, a broken coffee maker, and drafty windows. They never felt more at home. 

Alfred threw his duffel bag on the table, handguns clanking together as they impacted the hard surface. He kicked off his boots and jumped on one of the beds, snatching the room service menu off the bedside table.

“Awesome! Now, let’s see what they have to offer. I’m kinda craving burgers right now. What are you thinking, Matty?”

Matthew dropped the bag of clothes and went to receive his laptop, checking to see if it was still in one piece. “We literally just stopped at McDonald’s two hours ago. How about you help me research this case some, eh?”

“Hmm, or…” Alfred swung his legs off the bed and stood up, arms stretched above his head, “I could head into town, get myself a drink, and maybe find a nice girl to spend the night with.” He wiggles his eyebrows, earning a gag from his brother. 

“You sure your boyfriend won’t be upset, Al?” Matthew nudged his glasses farther up his nose and grinned, “Last time you tried to take a girl home, her flesh burned off as soon as she walked through the front door.”

Alfred’s lips twisted into a scowl, “Fuck off, Matt. Arthur’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, try telling him that. It worked out so well last time.”

“Whatever.” Alfred pulled his boots back on and walked over to the table. He rummaged through their duffle bag and pulled out a small silver handgun. He checked for ammo before lifting the back of his coat and tucking it in his waistband. 

His hand hovered over the demon blade and the angel blade, questioning whether or not he should take one of them. Ultimately, he decided on the demon blade, wanting Matthew to have the angel blade just in case Ivan decides to drop by, attempting to coax Matthew to accept him and become his vessel. A long story for another time. 

Alfred tucked the blade into his coat, feeling much more comfortable having that extra layer of protection. If he did meet Arthur face to face, he’d want every chance he got to stab the Brit in the face. 

Alfred ran his fingers quickly through his hair, taking the time to twist up his cowlick and brush down any flyaways. He patted his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and saluted his brother before he opened the front door and ran down to his car. Matthew simply sighed and continued typing on his computer. 

* * *

“I hate fucking hipsters.”

Alfred spent way too long driving around town looking for a bar that didn’t sell an assortment of craft beer and only vegan bar snacks. The only vegetable he likes is ketchup and French fries. All he wanted to do was get drunk, eat good food, and get laid. He started to lose hope until he came across a grungy looking bar at the edge of town, full of people looking like they were having a hell of a time. Now, this was more his speed. 

Alfred parked his car by a row of bikes, careful not to knock over one and create a chain of fallen over motorcycles. He stepped out of the Impala and raised his wrist up, checking the time on his watch. It was a little past 10:30, the town fully engulfed in darkness, stars littering the sky. He checked his phone before he headed inside, having no messages from Matthew or Kiku alike (Though, the old angel barely knew how to work a flashlight, so Alfred never expected much from him.). Alfred shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and rubbed his face, scratching the stubble that was beginning to grow. 

“Alright, Al. For the past six months, Matty has been dragging you across the country searching for the Devil. Four months before that, you were in Hell torturing lost souls. You might have lost your touch, who knows? The last girl you almost hooked up with turned into a ball of fire before you could even take off your coat. That’s okay though, she did hold hands with her own feet which was kind of weird.” he patted his own cheeks for support, “Let’s go find us a chick!”

He pushed through the bar’s doors, the loud chattering of drunks and the tasteless stereo music filling his ears. He squeezed past waitresses in tight uniforms and stumbled over stools to a seat right next to the bar. 

Alfred waved over the bartender, a flamboyant blonde Frenchman who seemed way too excited to be serving drinks to already tipsy customers, and ordered a shot of whiskey and a pint of one of the local draft beers. 

“Ah, another lonely soul looking to drink the pain away.” The Frenchman, whose name tag read Francis, slid his shot of whiskey towards him. 

Alfred took the glass and raised it up to him, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “Er, whatever you say, dude.” He took a long sip of the amber liquid, appreciating the burn that slid down his throat and spread warmth through his body. He placed the empty glass onto the counter and slid it back to the bartender, accepting the mug of beer that replaced it in his hand. 

His eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to stumble across another lonely soul to spend the night with. Not that he was actually lonely, no. That’s not why he spends his nights at rundown bars drinking himself half blind, of course not. 

He saw a few girls, all tall, skinny, with long hair, giving him heart eyes. But for some reason, he felt no attraction. He finished his first beer and signaled for another one. By his third, his eyes had landed on the back of a head that caused him to choke on his drink. 

The girl’s hair was chopped messily, blonde strands sticking up in strange directions, the tips faded red from a past dye job. She wore the tightest leather pants and a loose red tank top that rode up just enough to show off the curve of her waist, strange for the chilly Portland weather. If he was thinking straight, Alfred might have found it odd in the drafty bar. But when did he ever think straight? Alfred quickly drained the rest of his liquid courage and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He threw a few bills on the table and made his way over to the girl. 

He put on his most charming smile and slid next to her, his voice purring softly in her ear.

“Hey there, baby. You look a bit lonely sitting here all by yourself.”

The girl took another sip on her own drink, face still was hidden from Alfred’s view. 

“Oh, Al. You sure do know how to charm a gent off his feet.”

Alfred almost stabbed himself right there. The girl turned around to reveal that she wasn’t a girl at all. The King of Hell himself grinned devilishly at Alfred. Arthur crossed his legs and finished off his drink, the leather of his pants stretching across his thighs. 

Alfred moved quickly, pining Arthur to the chair, the tip of the demon blade digging into Arthur’s chest. His voice was low in Arthur’s ear, irritation seeping through. 

“You have three seconds to tell me what you are doing here before I kill you,  _ limey _ .”

Arthur’s eyes flashed red, amused by his threat. He bit his lip gently, “Is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Alfred’s face reddened, his glasses fogging up from the sudden increase of heat. He dug the tip of the knife farther into Arthur’s skin, earning a small hiss from the other. 

“Alright, alright. You’re no fun.” 

Arthur disappeared from the chair, causing Alfred to fall forward and stab the wood. Arthur appeared behind him, changed back into his normal all black formal attire. He tugged on his sleeves and straighten his coat, unamused by Alfred’s attempts to remove his blade from the seat. 

Once removed, Alfred spun around and pointed the knife at Arthur’s neck, who only rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

“This isn’t funny, dude. Why are you hanging out in random bars dressed like a hooker?”

Arthur pressed his finger to the tip of the blade, pushing it away from his neck.

“You know I hate it when you call me ‘dude’. I prefer darling or even  _ babe _ . Any pet name would be fine,  _ love _ .”

Alfred’s free hand flew to the gun tucked into his waistband, causing Arthur’s hands to fly up in surrender. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you why I’m here. Just stop waving that thing around,” he eyed the demon blade, distaste written all over his face, “Let’s go somewhere more private… to talk.”

Arthur led Alfred by the hand out of the bar, sending a quick wink in Francis’s direction, whose eyes flickered black in acknowledgment.  
  
  


The morning after, Matthew spent his time readying himself in his FBI suit, double-checking their I.D.s before calling Alfred. As he pulled out his phone, Alfred came stumbling in through the door, clothes disheveled. Matthew pursed his lips and placed his phone back into his pocket, eyebrows raising accusingly. 

“Rough night, eh?”

Alfred pushed back his hair, eyes wide. “You have no idea.” 

He collapsed into a chair and sighed, “Dude, I have so much to tell you.”

“Gross, I’m not going to listen to you describe your night with some random chick.”

“What? No! I was with Arthur last night!”

“Yuck, even worse! I knew you’d have your bi awakening someday, but I didn’t think it would be with him.”

“Matty, will you listen! I have information on Ivan’s location!”

“You did not deny his accusation.”

Kiku appeared in the hotel room with the flap of wings. He stood stiff between the two brothers, ignoring Alfred’s red face and the muffled laughter from Matthew.

“I was informed that you have information on Ivan.”

Matthew snorted, “Which took him all night to get.”

Alfred took off his boot and threw it at Matthew, who dodged the object effortlessly. 

“I didn’t sleep with him!”

“I didn’t say you did!”

“You implied it!”

“And you confirmed it!”

“Matthew, Alfred.” Kiku turned towards Alfred, who kept his face hidden in the collar of his coat. “Alfred, what did Arthur tell you?”

Alfred took a deep breath, trying to calm his beating heart, “He said that Ivan was building an army. Hell is in chaos, splitting between supporting Art, or the Devil. That’s why we haven’t been running into as many demons, the bastards are busy planning a civil war.”

“The angels are disorganized as well.” Kiku shook his head, “My brothers and sisters are unsure if the rumors are true. I have heard that the angels are preparing for the war that may outbreak.”

Kiku shifted to face Matthew, who gave him a worried look. “I am afraid that Yao has given the order to find the ones responsible for Ivan’s return and smite them.”

Alfred groaned and covered his face with hands, “Great, first we have to worry about a potential war outbreak that might occur between heaven and hell, now we have to make sure our asses aren’t smitten by some angry angel who didn’t like how we let his bro out of time out.”

Kiki nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, Gilbert did warn us that this would happen if something was not done.”

The brothers were both aware of Gilbert’s attempt to talk to the devil. The archangel was a trickster who was notorious for causing trouble during the brothers’ jobs. 

During their last run in with Ivan, Gilbert has made the last minute decision to trade places with Matthew, who was locked inside a room with the Devil and attempt to talk to him.

Gilbert and Ivan were obviously close, both of the archangels going back to the beginning of time. But when the door locked behind Matthew, he knew that only one angel would leave, and it was not in Gilbert’s favor.  

“This is my fault.” Matthew had moved to sit on the bed, his fingers laced through his hair. “One taste of power and I was hooked. God, I deserved to be stabbed in the back that day.”

“Hey.” Alfred’s voice was stern, flashbacks of Matthew’s limp body being cradled in his arms haunted his vision, “This is no one’s fault. No one’s except Ivan’s.”

Kiku cleared his throat, the tension in the air nonexistent to the angel, “If it is anyone’s fault, I would blame Alfred. He did make the deal with Arthur to bring him back.”

“I said it was no one’s fault!”

“Alright, alright.” The bed creaked as Matthew stood up, “We’ll agree it’s Alfred’s fault.”

“What? Hey!” 

“But,” Matthew tossed a badge in Alfred’s direction, “I’m willing to change my mind if you hurry and suit up.”

Alfred grumbled under his breath and grabbed his suit that lied on the bed, pulling it to the bathroom with him to change. 

“Kiku, if you’d like to join—” the flap of feathered wings announced the angel’s departure, “Or not. Good to see you too, Kiku.”

* * *

The neighborhood was quiet for a Saturday morning. Alfred picked at the loose threads that hung off his suit as Matthew pocketed a few more necessary supplies: EVPs, salt, spray paint, silver bullets, normal things for normal FBI agents. 

“We should really invest in better suits, and not costumes, Matty. Maybe Prada? I’m kinda liking the idea of a deep red color.”

Matthew shut the trunk and shoved their father’s journal into Alfred’s chest.

“That’s Agent Trudeau to you, Agent Biden.”

“Aw, Agent Biden? Why couldn’t I be Obama?”

“Yeah, because that wouldn’t be suspicious at all.”

“And the former vice president of the United States isn’t?”

“Look, you could be Agent Trump instead.”

“Joe is cool.”

Matthew shook his head and started to the front door of their first witness, unaware of his brother lagging behind. Alfred twisted the loosed thread of his jacket once more, contemplation displayed plainly on his face. 

“Matty, wait− Maybe you were right. We should just quit the case and go back to finding Ivan! This kid snatcher can wait.”

Matthew froze in his tracks, clearly unnerved by his brother’s change of heart. “Al, you okay?”

Alfred ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends roughly. “If there really is a demonic civil war brewing, and we’ve got fleets of angels on our asses, shouldn’t we do something about it? I thought that maybe taking a job would make me feel better, but if I’m honest, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

Seeing his brother that vulnerable made Matthew uncomfortable. He was so used to his rambunctious, ready-for-anything, kick-ass bro that seeing him so concerned was unsettling. Yet, he could see where he was coming from. He was just complaining in the car the day before to Alfred that taking a job now was stupid, but something told him that solving a case and having one win under their belt would be good for them. 

“What if I just call Ludwig, like you said? He’s probably somewhere close, he can pick it up for us.”

“Uh huh, not buying it. Kiku programmed us off the angel GPS and those demons are so damn stupid, there’s no way they’ll actually be able to pull it off. Now, stop being so 2006 on me and get your ass up here.”

Alfred took a deep breath, “Yeah, you’re right− you’re right! I don’t know what came over me.” he joined Matthew on the porch and knocked on the door, “But I don’t think the demons are that dumb…”

Before Matthew could question the oddness of his statement, the front door opened, snapping their attention to the job at hand. 

A woman stood at the door, no older than 40, with shoulder length blonde hair, grey strands mixed in with the color. She pulled her sweater tightly around her and strained a smile, the puffiness around her eyes telling the boys that she had been crying. 

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Zwingli?” Matthew offered a small smile as he pulled out his badge, Alfred doing the same, “My name is Agent Trudeau, and this is my partner Agent Biden. We would like to ask you a few questions about your son.”

Mrs. Zwingli nodded and opened the door wider, “Of course, please come in.” she backed out of the way, allowing the two brothers to step inside. “What would you like to know?”

Matthew took a seat across from the mother as Alfred slipped an earphone to the EVP into his ear and wandered through the house. 

“You said that he went missing three nights ago, is that correct?”

“Y-yes. My husband and I tucked him in bed and the next morning he was gone. The window was wide open, a-and his bed was a mess.”

Matthew jotted a few notes into a small scratch pad. “Was there anyone else in the house other than you or your husband?”

Mrs. Zwingli pressed the sleeve of her sweater to her eye, “My eldest daughter, Erika. Her room is across from Vash’s. She wasn’t even home that night, though. She was sleeping over at a friends house.”

“And where is she now?”

“Soccer practice. And then afterward she’s volunteering at the library to read some children’s books to the kids.”

“Uh huh,” Matthew wrote a bit more nonsense in her notebook, stalling a bit longer so Alfred could snoop around a bit more. “She seems like a good kid.”

As Matthew was talking, Alfred examined the whole house, EVP meter beeping steadily in his ear. As he was exploring the upstairs, he was about to rid the possibility of a ghost until he got to the daughter’s room, where the signal jumped significantly. He dug through the drawers and closets, trying to find the source of the signal, finally being drawn to a small book.

“What are you doing?”

Mrs. Zwingli’s voice caused Alfred to jump, his head banging against the closet doorway. It seems like everything had it out for his noggin. 

“I was, uh…” Alfred held the book in front of him, “What is this?”

Mrs. Zwingli pressed her lips together, eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Peter Pan? It’s a children’s book.”

The EVP was beeping much louder now, Alfred had to pull the headphone out of his ear.

“Excuse me, Agent? What are you doing in my daughter’s room? Aren’t you supposed to have a permit for this?”

Matthew pushed his way into the room and took the book, distracting from the currently posed question, “Did your daughter read this to your son by chance? The night he disappeared?”

“She always reads him a story before bed. Agents, I’m really not sure if you should be going through my daughter’s things−”

“May we take this book for, uh, investigation?”

“The children’s book? Sure, but it is a library book−”

Alfred snatched the book from Matthew’s hands and pushed his way to the stairs, “Thank you, no further questions!”

Matthew apologized for his partner’s behavior and followed closely behind, the creak of car doors closing ending the investigation there.   
  


“Peter Pan, huh? I never knew ghosts to haunt children’s books. Bibles, sure! But beloved classics?” Alfred flipped through the worn pages, “So, what do we do now? Burn it?”

Matthew tapped a pen to his glasses, “No, we still have to find those missing boys. We don’t know where that spirit took them.”

“I guess you could call them Lost Boys, huh?” Alfred chuckled to himself, “Good one, Al.” he muttered. 

Matthew straightened himself up, “Lost Boys… Al, the kids are Lost, Boys!”

“Uh, I know, I just said that.”

“No, you don’t understand. Peter Pan takes lost boys, our ghost took the kids!”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“No, but I know where we can check. How about a quick trip to the library?”

Alfred groaned and placed the book on the dashboard, “God, you’re such a nerd!” He put the car into drive, “Somehow we always end up there.”

Matthew took the children’s book and tucked it inside his coat, “Hey, at least the kid’s section will be more your reading level.”

“Shut up.”

 

The Central Library was bustling with activity that Saturday, kids ran through the shelves with armfuls of new reads and crudely made story-themes crafts stuck to them. Matthew leaned himself against the young adult novel shelf, flipping through Peter Pan for any sign of the missing boys.

Alfred found his way to his brother, waving a sheet of paper in front of him. 

“You were right, the past six owners of the book were the missing kids. I think we found out where our ghost is hosting.”

Matthew examined the front cover of the book, “Now if we could only find out where it's hiding those kids.”

“Tough read?”

A voice grabbed the attention of the two brothers. It belonged to a girl, about sixteen, with cropped blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was restocking the young adult shelf Matthew was leaning against, ignoring the many children coming up and sticking stickers to her sailor costume. 

“Hey, Peter Pan was a tough read for me too. Especially since I thought the book was about me.”

“Erika?” Matthew questioned, trying to find similarity in the stranger and Mrs. Zwingli.

The stranger’s face dropped. “ _ Erika _ ? Do I really look that feminine?”

The stranger gave no chance for Matthew to answer. 

“My name is  _ Peter _ , I am a  _ boy _ . God, didn’t you get my joke? Thinking Peter Pan was about me? Peter? That’s my name.”

Matthew’s face reddened and he tripped over his words, trying to stutter out an apology.

“S-sorry, I was− we were trying to find her, and you’re the first person we’ve seen−”

Alfred was slamming his fist on a desk, tears streaming down his face as he was trying to keep his laughter in.

Peter examined the pair, “Are you guys cops?” He placed the books he was holding back on the library cart. “Erika is upstairs in the kid’s room. She should be finished in a few minutes.”

Matthew thanked him and grabbed Alfred by the collar and pulled him away, making him swear to never speak of that moment again.

“Yeah, sure. Won’t tell a soul.” Alfred said, already typing out the message on his phone.

Matthew shook his head, ears burning from embarrassment.  
  


The story of the day was Rainbow Fish, explaining all the sparkly scale stickers and Goldfish snacks thrown on the floor. 

Erika was not what Matthew imagined. Her blonde hair was chopped messily, streaks of purple scattered across her head with a matching purple ribbon on the side. Her eyes were lined with black, highlighting her blue-green eyes, and she was dressed in leggings and a big sweater− both black. Not the sweet girl who was the star of the soccer team, who also volunteered with kids that Mrs. Zwingli described. 

Despite her off-putting appearance, her voice was soft and lulling, captivating the attention of all the children in the room She spoke with a kind tone that a mother would have, and made the book she read seem all that more interesting. 

Matthew would have drifted to sleep if it weren’t for his brother’s giggling behind him.

“It’s not funny anymore, Al!” Matthew hissed, “I called him a girl, okay! Drop it.”

Alfred waved his hand, eyes glued to his phone, “We’re over that now.” 

Matthew raised an eyebrow and went to peek behind the screen, “Who are you texting?”

“Uh, no one important.” 

“That’s sure a lot of heart emojis for no one important.”

“What?” Alfred blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, “Too many… Do you think it’s too much?” When Matthew didn’t answer, he shook his head and placed his phone into his coat pocket, “Anyway, is that our girl?”

“Yep.”

Erika had finished her book and the children were now packing up their things. The two of them were careful to step around the small kids and whipped out their badges. 

“Erika Zwingli? My name is Agent Biden, and this is my partner Agent Trudeau. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your missing brother.”

Erika’s eyes flickered up briefly in Alfred’s direction before going back down to the mess she was cleaning up. “Biden? Why not Obama Mr. Super-Real-and-Not-Fake-at-all-FBI-Man.” She shoved a handful of broken crayons in the trash bag she was holding before continuing, “I’ll tell you exactly what I told the cops: I wasn’t home when he disappeared. I read him a story that I left for my friend Roderich’s birthday party. That’s it. Nothing more.”

“Look, Ms. Zwingli−”

“It’s Vogel. My mom remarried.”

“Um, Ms. Vogel,” Alfred took the book from Matthew and held it up, “Do you happen to know this book, by chance?”

Erika crossed her arms across her chest, dropping the trash bag by her feet, “Yeah, it’s Peter Pan. Disney made a pretty famous movie, ever heard of it? You guys aren’t very good detectives.”

“No, this book in particular.”

“I checked it out of the library three days ago, what of it?”

Matthew took the book back and handed it to Erika, “What if we told you that it may be connected to your brother's disappearance, and everyone else’s for that matter.”

“I’d think your crazy.” Erika handed the book back, “Look, I’m grateful that you are trying to find my brother, but I don’t think a simple children’s book is the reason for his kidnapping.”

Matthew pushed the book towards her again, a bit more forceful this time, “Has your brother talked about feeling lost? Or maybe about going to Neverland? Anything?”

Erika’s eyebrows crinkled together, “Uh, no?”

“How about taking pixie dust to fly away,  _ anything _ alluding to this book?”

Alfred grabbed Matthew’s arm and tugged him back, “Matt, she doesn’t know−”

Matthew opened the book to the picture of all the lost boys dancing behind Peter Pan, “Do you recognize any of these faces?”

“Matty−”

“Wait!” Erika grabbed the book from Matthew’s hands, “That’s−That’s Vash! That’s him! Dressed as the skunk!” 

Erika pointed to the lost boy in the back, with vibrant green eyes and the toy gun water squirter in his hands. 

“He always falls asleep with that gun in his hands, just in case a monster got him or something. What is he doing in this book?”

Alfred patted his brother on the shoulder, “Well, dude. We found our lost boys.”

Matthew exhaled and pulled out a card with his and Alfred’s number on it, “I think it’s best if you head home.” he handed the card to Erika, who took it and the book and pushed past the two boys, shuffling her way out of the kid’s room. 

“How on earth are we going to free those kids, Al?”

* * *

Matthew and Alfred spent the rest of the day at the library, researching spirits, types of ghosts, ways to rid them, curses, traps, all leading to nothing. The boys were slowly growing frustrated, nothing was of use to them. 

Closing time forced them back to the motel room with as much information as they started. 

“What if we just salted and burned the damn thing? That seems to always solve our problems!”

Matthew sat with elbows on the table, fingers tugging at his hair, “And what if the boys die with it too, Alfred? We aren’t risking it.”

Alfred paced around the room, his tie was draped around his neck and his shirt was halfway unbuttoned. He was tired. This job was a mistake. 

“What if we just made a deal with Arthur. Then it would be his problem to get the kids back!”

Matthew shook his head in his hands, “You sure you don’t have a thing for him? He seems to be popping into your head an awful lot.” 

“He does not!”

“Oh? Tell that to your red cheeks, Jones.”

Alfred pointed the demon blade in Matthew’s direction, “Don’t go using my last name against me, Williams!”

Matthew jumped to his feet and aimed the angel blade in his direction, “What? Hate that we’re only half-brothers, huh? That dad sacrificed himself for you to make up that he wasn’t really your father?”

“Shut up! I wish we weren’t brothers at all!”

Matthew gasped, “You take that back!”

“That that thing about Arthur back first!”

“That he’s your boyfriend?”

Alfred gritted his teeth and lunged in Matthew’s direction, demon blade gripped in both hands. Matthew jumped out of the way, knocking over a chair in the process. He scratched the angel blade across the back of Alfred’s shoulder, earning a hiss from the other. 

“It seems like all you talk about is Arthur!”

“That’s not true!”

Alfred cut Matthew’s calf, causing him to fall to the ground and drop his blade. Matthew grabbed the front of Alfred’s shirt and pulled him to the ground.

“I wish Kiku left you in Hell−”

Matthew froze, him pulling Alfred to the ground pulled on his already open shirt, revealing his anti-possession tattoo− or what was left of it. 

Across his chest was a large scar that marked out his ink, the symbol “A + A” surrounded by a heart disrupting the symbol’s property. 

“Al, what’s this?”

Alfred blinked, attempting to recover from his fall. “What’s what?” He looked down at his chest, his eyebrow lifting quizzically, “My tattoo?”

“No,” Matthew touched the scar, “ _ That. _ ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Matthew retracted his finger and curled his hand into a fist. “Arthur did something to you. I thought you have been acting strangely. God, I’m going to kill that asshole.”

Alfred sat up, looking more confused than before, “Woah, bro. Chill out. Whatever Art did, probably had good intentions behind it.”

“Art? Are we giving him nicknames now?” Matthew shook Alfred by the shoulders, “He sent you to  _ Hell _ ! You went through forty years of  _ torture _ !” he punched him in the chest where the tattoo and scar laid, “He possessed you with some sort of curse that clouds your judgment around him and probably was feeding you lies about the demon civil war so we’d be on his side and against Ivan!”

Alfred pressed his palm to his forehead, pain taking over the features of his face, “No, bro, he wouldn’t — ”

The moment was cut short by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. 

“Hello?” 

The voice on the other end was frantic, voice shaking as it whispered into the phone. 

“Agent Trudeau?”

Erika sounded scared, voice quivering as she spoke, “Th-there’s something at my window…. I think I’m going insane…”

“Erika, what is it?”

“I-it kinda looks like a sh-shadow, Black and cloudy. I think it’s trying to get in.”

Matthew pulled himself off the ground, “Okay, Erika, listen to me. You need to find salt and put it across your window sill. It should hold it back until we get there, got it?”

“Wh-what if it comes in while I’m in the kitchen?”

“It won’t. I promise.” Matthew covered the microphone with his hand, “Al, the ghost showed up at Erika’s. We need to go. Now.”

Alfred nodded and started buttoning his shirt back up. Matthew tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he started shoving things into a duffle bag.

“Erika, are you still there? Did you get the salt?”

“Yes, I got it.”

“Okay, after sealing your window, I need you to make a circle around that book, okay? We can’t have it get to the boy.”

“Wait… it’s gone.”

“What?”

“I-it’s not at the window anymore! I think it’s gone!”

“Still, you need to block off the book!”

“Oh, mein Gott−”

The phone cut off, leaving the sound of static behind in Matthew’s ear. He tucked a gun into his waistband and grabbed his phone with his hand. 

“Erika? Erika?! Dammit!” 

He hung up and grabbed the bag, then sprinting to the car where Alfred was waiting. 

“It got her, we have to go,  _ now _ !”  
  


When the two men got to the Zwingli household, it was quiet. No cars were in the driveway, telling them that the parents must have been out. They didn’t care at the moment, for the only thing the brothers were focused on was the black smoke leaking out of the bedroom window which had to belong to Erika. 

Alfred didn’t think twice before he rammed his entire body into the front door, knocking the lock loose from the frame and swinging the door open. Matthew pushed passed as Alfred recovered, his steps swift as he ran upstairs. 

When he got to Erika’s room, he raised his shotgun up and released a shell full of rocksalt towards the shadow figure that floated in the room. 

The salt went through the figure, embedding itself in the pink walls of Erika’s room. The glowing eyes of the spirit stared right at Matthew, his form becoming reminiscent of the familiar figure of Peter Pan. Finding those defensive tactics were useless against the ghost, Matthew dove straight towards the book, which laid flipped open to the page where Peter Pan whisks Wendy away, her two brothers close behind. Erika was pressed to the floor, her arm disappearing into the book in a swirl of black particles, dissolving into ink that stained the pages. She tried pulling her arm out, her other hand pushed against the ground. 

Matthew reached through the swirling body of Peter Pan for Erika’s free hand, blindly grasping for some contact. Peter’s shadowy form manifested next to Erika and pulled out a comically large needle, performing the act of sewing her shadow to his. He dove into the book, yanking Erika’s head into the book. 

Her arm flailed and legs kicked as she pulled farther into the story. Matthew finally caught a grasp of her ankle and fought against the spirit, trying to pull the poor girl free. 

The room was pitch black, glowing orbs taunting Matthew, flaunting its success. Matthew’s jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his grip on Erika’s slipping foot. 

“Al! Anytime now!” 

With the mention of his name, Matthew watched a spark of light cut through the pitch black room, his brother emerging with a roll of paper towels, burning dangerously close to his fingers.

“They hid all the flammable objects! The suburbs suck!”

Alfred swung the ball of fire, the shadow spirit dissolving in the light, a hiss of pain following where its body was sliced with light. Matthew gave another strong pull, feeling Peter Pan’s grip loosen ever so slightly. 

Matthew’s eyes darted back and forth, fighting to find a solution. As Alfred continued swinging his flame, the faint light was enough to illuminate the box of salt that Erika had failed to use. Stretching his leg out to keep both hands on Erika, Matthew knocked the box over onto the book, spilling its contents all over the pages. 

“Yo, Alfred!”

Said brother’s head whipped around, small “ow’s!” coming from his lips as the fire ate to the end of the roll. 

“Sometimes you just need to salt and burn the damn thing!”

Alfred’s eyes lit up as he dropped the roll, the last few flickers of flame landing on the edge of the children’s book, the newfound fuel igniting immediately. 

The surrounding shadow entity screamed, the swirling black smoke jerking and spinning faster around the room, and Matthew took it as his signal to  _ pull _ . And pull he did, he pulled on Erika’s leg, which was the only remaining body part that was available. Slowly, a second leg appeared, and Alfred grabbed it, wincing from the pain in his scorched fingers. 

The two of them pulled, racing to get her out before the rest of the book burn up. Soon, a torso appeared, then a neck, then her head was revealed. Her arms were still extended into the pages of the book, and the brothers gave one last tug that pulled six lost boys from its pages. 

The last of the children’s story disappeared in a puff of ashes, the last of its spark disappearing in the wind. Matthew looked around, the room was a mess, books, and papers blown off shelves, the smell of smoke (and burnt flesh) encased the room, but once his eyes fell on Erika who was comforting crying souls, he found it all to be a temporary problem. 

Alfred squeezed his hands, a small curse of pain escaping his lips, “Ah, well, I guess Peter Pan will  _ neverland _ in our world again!”

Matthew groaned and hit his brother in the shoulder, biting back the small smile that was edging across his lips. They did it.   
  


When the police came, the brothers explained that the boys had wandered off, believing that there was an actual Neverland, and returned to Erika’s room to recreating the Native American fire scene with Erika as Wendy, which would explain the smoke that neighbors saw coming out of the house (and the actual fire that occurred). Their story was not at all perfect, and quite lame, but parents were just glad to have their son’s back home, and that’s all that mattered. 

Alfred was packing up the car when Matthew snuck up behind him and clapped him on the back. He jumped, head colliding on the permanent dent that was carved into the hood. Alfred cursed and rubbed his head, feeling the welt that was already forming.

“Well, Alfred. I gotta say you were right. It’s nice to have a win under our belt, eh?”

Alfred closed the truck and shrugged, “Yeah, but now we have to figure out a way to stop an otherworldly war and save our own asses.”

“Eh, well,” Matthew leaned against the creaking car, arms crossed firmly against his chest, “At least we’ve got your significant other to weasel information out of.”

Also leaning against the Impala, Alfred rubbed his chest, finally acknowledging the scar that broke through his anti-possession tattoo. “I never should have trusted him.”

“Hey, you just couldn’t keep it in your pants!”

“Nothing happened, alright?!”

“Aw, love. Was our passionate night together really nothing to you?”

The purr of an English accent was enough to cause the brothers to pull out their weapons. Arthur was dressed to the nines in all black suit, a red pressed shirt accentuating his vivid green eyes. He boredly filed his nails, unfazed by the weapons aimed in his direction.

“Really, Alfred. If you were going to kill me, you had the perfect chance when my legs were wrapped around you and you had me pinned to the bed, feverishly — ”

“Oh, my God. SHUT UP!” Alfred’s face was bright red, his hand shaking as he continued to aim the gun for Arthur’s head. 

Matthew released the safety of his own pistol, “Arthur.” he hissed between clenched teeth, “What did you do to my brother?”

Arthur paused mid-file, eyebrow raised elegantly, “Oh, what? The little signage across his chest? Just a little reminder to who he belonged to.” He winked and blew a kiss, “Love you~"

Alfred was shaking harder now, crimson growing to the tips of his ears, “I will kill you.”

“Oh, sure you will.” Arthur spread his arms out and lifted his head slightly, eyes closed, “Go ahead. Shoot.”

Alfred cursed and put down his gun, unable to pull the trigger. Matthew wouldn’t be swayed too easily. “Is there really a war brewing in Hell?”

A small smirk graced the demon’s lips, “Very much so, my dear Matthew. Seems that Ivan’s reawakening has loyalties split. Apparently, I was not such a kind ruler to all my subjects."

Matthew rolled his eyes, “Shocking.”

A fake sniffle came from Arthur, catching the attention of Alfred, who was very interested in the weeds sprouting from the parking lot. “It’s just so insulting! How dare they follow a leader who had been missing for millennia! I’ve done so much for those ungrateful sods!”

His eyes may have said stuck in his skull if Matthew had to roll them again. “Cut the act, Arthur. What do you want from us?”

The King of Hell grimaced, a bitter taste taking over his mouth as he uttered the next phrase: “I need your help.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr :)  
> kissmykirkland.tumblr.com


End file.
